Hydrangeas
by panravenc
Summary: For Giyuu has always stared at Sabito more than he should. Short stories that revolve around Sabito, Giyuu, and their love for one another.
1. first kiss

**HYDRANGEAS**

* * *

© 2020; panravenc.

* * *

**_Chapter I_**

_First Kiss_

* * *

It starts like this: Giyuu is thirteen, he's a crybaby, he's learning the way of the Breath of Water, and sometimes he stares too much at Sabito when the other is not looking.

It isn't a conscious action, not really, because his eyes drift and suddenly Sabito's smiling at him, question in his eyes; and Giyuu can't stop his cheeks from burning, can't stop himself from averting the older's curious gaze, heart racing like he'd been running for hours and a light-hearted feeling on his chest.

(Sabito chuckles, whenever it happens, and lets himself wonder for a bit.)

Giyuu tries, he really does— he has to focus on training, not on how pretty Sabito's eyes are, or how soft his hair looks, or how well would their hands fit together even if they're roughed up because of the swords they hold. It's distracting and confusing and it makes his head hurt whenever he thinks about it too much.

(Boys are supposed to like girls, aren't they?)

(Then again, demons _exist_. So maybe reality is different than how it is_ supposed to be_.)

It continues like this: Giyuu and Sabito are both thirteen, both kind-hearted in their own ways —one wants to repay a debt to his teacher and the other wants to make sure what happened to him and his sister doesn't happen to anyone else—, and they both have the urge to find out whether or not the other's lips are as soft as they look.

Sabito's more subtle about it, always careful not to let Giyuu catch him in the act, never wanting to alert his friend on his thoughts. Not because he's ashamed of them, nothing like that —Sabito's shameless, really— but because it may scare his black-haired best friend away.

Giyuu's not subtle at all. He stares, and tries not to, and then stares some more. When they're talking, his eyes slowly get drawn towards Sabito's lips and his cheeks gain a rosy tint to them. He doesn't understand much why, doesn't connect the, dare he say, _fluffy_ feelings he gets around Sabito to the staring and the images he gets inside his head whenever he spaces out.

(Urokodaki sees it all and just thinks they're both thirteen-year-old idiots who should dive into it before it's too late.)

It happens like this: they're without their teacher, doing some light sparring, something like an after-training session that focuses on letting them reduce the adrenaline of the day, and _yeah_, both of them think the other looks hot with the sweat and the afternoon sun on them.

It doesn't calm them at all.

Sabito's the one who stops the spar.

"I think that's enough," he says, because he doesn't think he can keep his focus on his breath if Giyuu's being this _breath-taking_.

(And yes, that was a pun. Sabito won't ever say it out loud, but he likes puns. A lot.)

Giyuu nods, glad not to have to continue with watching Sabito be even more gorgeous than he usually is—and _no, _he's not _freaking out right now_, he's accepted his friend is attractive after lots of breakdowns, thank you very much. "Yeah," he agrees, a curve of a smile on his face, too tired to grin as he wants.

They're both exhausted, as training usually leaves them, and the only thing they have the energy for right now is to put back their swords in their respective sheaths and maybe drink some water.

"Let's go back," announces Sabito after a while, rested and a bit worried as the sun starts to lower.

Giyuu nods and this time grins, already recuperated.

They're both walking when Sabito can't stop himself, tired and impulsive as few times he's been, and grabs Giyuu's hand to hold.

He panics, for a moment.

But then Giyuu squeezes, and Sabito is surprised and delighted and the red on Giyuu's cheeks makes it hard not to wish for more.

He should be content with just this, he thinks, but he's human and he's selfish and if he can have this then maybe, maybe it will be easier to live in a world where demons roam wild causing misery wherever they go.

So he gathers his courage and stops walking. Giyuu looks at him, confused and curious.

"Sabito?" Giyuu asks, nervous under the intense gaze of his best friend, nervous because there's red on the peach-haired boy's cheeks.

And Sabito's better than Giyuu when it comes to social interactions, but he's nervous and he _wants this_, wants this so much it burns sometimes.

"I like you," he says, eyes closed and cheeks red and tremors on his body that Giyuu can feel because they're still holding hands, and his heart is racing and—

_Oh_, Giyuu thinks, _oh._ Because that's—

That's what he feels, too, isn't it? So he grins, and tears escape from his eyes because he's still a crybaby, still someone that can cry because he has Sabito in front of him.

A hand on his face stops Sabito from apologizing just before the words get out of his mouth, and he looks up to see tears in Giyuu's eyes and the most blinding smile he's ever seen from the blue-eyed boy.

He accepts Giyuu's nod for what it is and with his free hand touches Giyuu's, awed at how soft it feels on his skin, even though he knows it's full of calluses and cuts.

"Can we—" his voice breaks, because he's thirteen and an idiot and he likes Giyuu but Giyuu likes him back. "Can we kiss?"

It feels like this: it's not fireworks, and it's not an explosion of feelings they've never felt before, but it's warm and soft and short, hesitant, and overwhelming all the same.

(When they get home, Urokodaki doesn't say a thing about their holding hands, doesn't say a thing when they stand a bit closer than usual.)

(_About time, _he thinks, and lets the matter get to rest.)

(Sabito and Giyuu kiss one more time before going to sleep, and neither thinks the giddiness will wear off any time soon.)

(It won't.)


	2. tattoo artist

**HYDRANGEAS**

* * *

© 2020; panravenc.

* * *

**_Chapter II_**

_Tattoo Artist_

* * *

It's easy for Giyuu to forget the world around him when he's working. He focuses on the lines he's drawing, the mark he's leaving on another's skin, and never lets his mind stray too far from that line of thought.

He loves his job, and while being a tattoo artist hasn't always been his dream, it isn't as if he's lying when he says it _is_ now.

The shop he works on and the one he apprenticed on, _Mizu no Kokyuu, _belongs to Urokodaki, his teacher and boss. There are two other former apprentices that work with him, and then there's the new apprentice, Kamado Tanjirou.

The other two— well. That's a bit of a complicated topic.

The first one, Makomo, is a cheerful woman whose positivism pulls even Giyuu—and that's a lot. She's kind, gentle, and a lot of clients like her because of her quiet and relaxing method.

She's not the problem.

The problem is—

"Good morning, Giyuu,"

_That's _the problem.

Sabito has been Giyuu's best friend for a long, long time. They met at thirteen when Giyuu was still a brat and somehow ended up with a friendship that lasted over more than twelve years.

It shouldn't be a problem to work with Sabito, to be around him even more than he usually is. And it wouldn't be if not because—

_Because—_

A soft smile on his face, Giyuu faces him. "Good morning, Sabito."

Because Giyuu is in love with him.

He's _in love_ with him.

And as irritating as it is, that means that he gets distracted, sometimes.

(And it's only sometimes because he's been in love with his best friend for a long time, and has somehow become used to it.)

(Not that he'll ever be _used to _love Sabito the way he does. It's just become a part of his routine to be head over heels over the peach-haired man.)

He could rant about Sabito for ages —though always inside his mind—, about his eyes and kindness, about his smile and how his laugh was one of the best sounds Giyuu had ever heard.

Then Sabito kisses his cheek as a response to the smile, and Giyuu feels like he's going to melt at any moment now.

Makomo laughs from the other side of the shop, having just ended a talk with one of their clients who wanted a new tattoo but couldn't decide on the design. He sends her a weak glare, and she laughs harder.

"Good morning, Makomo-chan," Sabito says, his usual gentle yet serious expression on his face. "How are things for today?"

Giyuu goes back to the drawing he was doing before Sabito's interruption, tunning out the others' conversation. He ignores Kamado's _good morning_, too, except he doesn't, not really—he just nods.

It's easy for Giyuu to forget the world around him when he's working. He focuses on the lines he's drawing, the mark he's leaving on another's skin, and never lets his mind stray too far from that line of thought.

The only exception for that is Sabito and, well—

It's certainly a problem, but not a problem Giyuu could go on without.


	3. rock band

**HYDRANGEAS**

* * *

© 2020; panravenc.

* * *

**_Chapter III_**

_Rock Band_

* * *

At fifteen, when Sabito had come to him with that certain seriousness on his face —the kind of seriousness he only wore when he had an idea stuck inside his brain and wouldn't let anything nor anyone get in the way of fulfilling it— he'd resigned himself to follow his best friend's lead and get carried on whatever it was that he wanted to do.

It had been like that when Sabito had told him he wanted to try kendo, and that _of course, you're coming with me, right, _and it had been like that when Sabito had told him he wanted to be a part of the student council, and that _we'll do great there, _and it had been like that when Sabito had told him he wanted to learn sign language and flower arrangements and—

Well, you get the idea.

And so they had formed a rock band along with Makomo, a girl from the wind instruments club Sabito had convinced to play the drums.

(Not that it required much convincing, with how enthusiastic about it the girl seemed.)

Sabito had, somehow, learnt how to play the electric guitar _and _how to sing —because yeah, he had a pretty voice, but apparently that wasn't enough— and roped Giyuu into learning how to play the bass. Which worked really well, apparently, because it didn't demand attention like the guitar or the vocals, nor did it have the loudness of the drums.

Then they had gotten more involved in music and went from playing on their school's cultural festival to playing on their _city's _festivals, and started to write their own songs, and—

And now they were famous.

Somehow.

Don't ask Giyuu. It's a nightmare, and he wants _out_.

He enjoys music, enjoys playing, enjoys the friendship he and Makomo struck and loves how Sabito looks under the lights, but the spotlight is sometimes too much for him, what with his inability to communicate with other people that aren't the ever-so-cheerful Makomo or his best friend Sabito.

(Who he's also head over heels for, but whatever.)

"Mh? What's this?" Asks Makomo on one of their reunions, holding on her hand a notebook Giyuu could have sworn he'd burnt. "These are good! Are they yours, Giyuu?"

Those are—

Sabito looks over her shoulder, reading some of the content. His eyes widen, and Giyuu is ready to throw himself out of the window to avoid the following situation.

"Are these—" Sabito starts, a bit struck. "Are these _love songs_?"

Giyuu nods, blushing and embarrassed because that's the only way he's ever been able to canalize his feelings for the peach-haired man who entered in his life at thirteen and has yet to leave.

They're only lyrics, and some are way too mushy, but that's the ones Giyuu wrote on all the three am's he's had thinking about Sabito, about his feelings and his wantings.

"We can use some of these for the new album!" Makomo exclaims, a light rosy tint on her cheeks at reading some of the more— _sensual_ lyrics, and looks at Giyuu like a cat who caught the canary.

Sabito nods, though he has a pensive expression on his face. "They're really good, Giyuu. I didn't know you felt like that about someone?" He says with a confused tone, a tint of sadness in his eyes.

Giyuu's still too embarrassed and red to do anything but nod.

Later, they talk with the manager about it, and the tracks number three, four, six and nine are songs that come from that thrice-damned notebook. Urokodaki, the manager, likes the lyrics, says they've got _heartfelt emotions written on them_, and guess, Giyuu blushes again.

Weeks pass while practising, writing the music, producing and recording the album, and those are ones of the busiest weeks Giyuu had ever had.

(Giyuu dies a bit on the inside every time he listens to Sabito sing one of the songs dedicated to _him_ without having a clue about it, but he manages in the end.)

Sabito seems distant, on those weeks, and Giyuu tries to reach out to him.

"Are you okay?" He asks, because subtlety has never been Giyuu's forte.

But Sabito only smiles, a pain behind it that hurts Giyuu more than the lie he spouts right after. "I am, just a bit under the weather."

"I see," he says instead of insisting because Sabito knows him well, but Giyuu knows him just as much, and if he doesn't want to say a thing, then he won't.

Giyuu will know sooner or later, either way.

(Because they're best friends and nothing happens to one without the other realizing.)

(Except for falling in love, because they're both a bit too dumb when it comes to one another.)

(Makomo realized this at eighteen, in the middle of a concert, and she almost messed up because of it. Honestly, _boys_.)

(Yeah, girls are much better in her opinion.)

It all culminates on the day of their first concert of the new tour, when they play for the first time on stage the new songs.

Giyuu almost messes up when he listens to Sabito sing the lyrics he composed while thinking about him in front of all their fans.

It's a private thing, he realizes, but it's far too late—

And he doesn't mind letting out all these feelings, not really. Yes, he would prefer it if those lyrics had never seen the light of day, but it's a weight off his shoulders.

And that's fine.

When the concert ends Giyuu retires to the backstage, ready to have some peace and quiet. He's resting on one of the sofas when a voice startles him.

"A bit bold, don't you think?" Sabito asks —because _of course_ it's him— and he leans on the now-closed door. He's wearing _that _expression, the one he knows so well, the one who's going to end up with him being carried onto another one of Sabito's ideas.

Giyuu asks with a glance what is his friend talking about, confused.

"Making me sing the love songs you wrote about me," he answers, a smirk on his face and a smug voice.

(There's a tremor on it Giyuu can't help but notice, too.)

Giyuu's heart stops and sits up quicker than lightning. "Wh— What—?" He stutters, face going redder by the seconds.

"You heard me," Sabito says, serious. "You love me— No, you're in love with me."

By now Giyuu's a tomato, and he averts his eyes from his best friend's.

Slowly, he nods, affronted.

(Because what can he do, other than that?)

(He doesn't hear the sigh of relief, doesn't feel the elation going through Sabito's body, doesn't see the grin he hides after it comes out.)

Hiding his head between his knees might not be something a grown-up man should do, but this is _Sabito_, so Giyuu does it anyway.

He hears Sabito's footsteps, and they seem louder than usual. Giyuu knows Sabito's got put on his face that determined, strong gaze he has whenever he _wants_ something and knows he always ends up getting it, especially if Giyuu's involved on it.

"Giyuu," he says, almost a whisper, once he's by his side. "Look at me."

Giyuu does, still red-faced.

Sabito's expression is serious.

(His eyes are the most gentle Giyuu's ever seen them be.)

Then, Sabito smiles, soft and grateful and loving, small by a grin's standards yet the most beautiful Giyuu's seen from him.

"Good."

And then Sabito kisses him.

Giyuu's brain stops, decides it's all a hallucination, and that if he's already gone this far for his best friend then he should just stop working altogether because there's no way he can function over all the thoughts of _SabitoSabitoSabitoSabito_—

It's a peck, nothing, really.

(Tell that to the freaking out Giyuu has going on, though.)

"You— What— How—" Giyuu manages to say, a bit lost and confused and still not working _at all_.

Sabito chuckles. "I'm in love with you."

Giyuu looks at him incredulously, because after eight years of pinning what do you expect, and blushes all over again.

"Oh."

Sabito laughs this time, open and heartily, a warm sound Giyuu adores. "Yeah, _oh_. Be my boyfriend?"

Giyuu has never nodded so fast in his entire life.

After that, they kiss again. And again. And again, and countless times after that, because they're a couple and they love each other and they need nothing more.

And, well, Giyuu's always gone along with Sabito's ideas, the ones he had when his face turned serious and would not let anything nor anyone get in the way of fulfilling them. This time, though, he's not going along—he wants this just as much, just as fiercely.

(It's going to be difficult, because they're famous and life is never easy for them, and the media's scrutiny won't ever let them live in peace, but well—)

(It's worth it, it's all worth it.)

(Especially if they can keep kissing like this, _loving_ like this.)

(When Makomo enters the backstage after talking to Urokodaki about the concert, she closes the door immediately.)

(_Fucking finally_.)


	4. ballet

**HYDRANGEAS**

* * *

© 2020; panravenc.

* * *

**_Chapter IV_**

_Ballet_

* * *

Sabito has a sister.

This is how the disaster starts.

(And no, it's not _really_ a disaster, that's just Sabito being his usual over-dramatic self.)

Sabito's sister, Makomo, likes watching ballets. She loves seeing the shows, and she keeps saying that she will play someday for one.

(Makomo plays the clarinet like no one else, and she's _determined_—Sabito just assumes she's going to do it once she's older and moves on.)

They live in a fairly small city, so it isn't a surprise that most of the ballet shows Makomo likes so much aren't represented in their stages. Sakonji, their father, is the one who always goes with her to the larger city, which is about fifty kilometres from theirs.

But Sakonji can't, not with a meeting at his work that starts at the same time the show does—and so, he asks Sabito to do it.

Sabito says yes because he loves his sister and watching about two hours of ballet can't be _that bad_. He doesn't have an idea of the terrifying events that are going to lead to his demise yet, so he's relaxed and doesn't worry too much about it.

(That's, of course, Sabito's usual over-dramatic self. Nothing terrifying happens, nor does his demise.)

"Are you ready?" He asks Makomo a few hours later.

"I am!" She exclaims from the living room, and runs to the entrance where Sabito is waiting, ready to to go—almost jumping, too.

Sabito ruffles her hair, unable to stop himself, and they both get on their father's car. Sabito, thankfully, has a driving license, so there's absolutely nothing illegal going on.

(Note how suspicious that was? Yes? Then don't.)

They arrive with time to eat before the ballet show starts and decide to go for a typical McDonald's meal, quick and cheap.

Sabito prefers japanese food, but Makomo looks pretty happy with her fries so he keeps his mouth shut and teases her about going fat.

After eating, it's almost time for the show to begin, and Makomo's eyes light up at the sight of the theatre the ballet company is performing in.

It's beautiful, Sabito has to admit, inside and outside, and that's something he can certainly appreciate.

(What Sabito doesn't know yet is that by the end of the night he's going to be too mesmerized by the main dancer of the ballet to be paying any attention to the theatre's sculptures.)

The ballet begins after a quick announcement of silencing the phones and to enjoy the show.

(And _oh, _Sabito _does_.)

Sabito hasn't gone to many ballets—he has to admit, he's not an expert on them. This one is kind of boring, at least he thinks so, but Makomo's eyes are _sparkling_ so apparently she doesn't share his opinion.

Then everything changes.

_Everything._

_He_ enters the stage. His demise, Sabito's tragedy, the reason why he's going to end up dead before the two hours and a half the ballet show lasts are up.

Here's the thing: he's _beautiful. _Sabito doesn't mean in the way dolled-up people are —though they are very pretty—, nor in the way flowers are, delicate in their beauty.

No, this dancer is beautiful for the strength behind each move he does, for the fluidity, for the snow-like skin that seems oh so breakable but shows muscle definition behind its appearance.

Sabito's _hooked_.

In the back of his mind, he thinks, _I understand ballet now_.

(He doesn't, but let a man dream.)

With each stroke of the dancer, Sabito falls. It's enticing, though not romantic in its nature—the ballet is _fury, _is anger and betrayal and nothing about it whispers soft love, and maybe because of that, the dancer manages to leave Sabito breathless.

Seriously, he's going to need oxygen soon.

Makomo nudges him in the stomach and Sabito chokes, only to find her looking at him with amused eyes and a smirk that screams of teasing.

(She has blackmail material now—not that she didn't before, but _still_. Now she has _more_.)

"I didn't know you were into dancers," she says, voice deceivingly light.

Sabito feels his cheeks _burn_. "I, uh— I'm, I'm not?"

Makomo raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed, and shifts her focus back to the ballet.

(Sabito can feel himself _die, _but the dancer moves again and it seems that's enough for him to revive.)

Sabito spends the two hours and a half of the ballet watching the dancer in question, which luckily for him, seems to be the main one, and blushes furiously when Makomo turns her attention to him again and says: "You're _drooling_."

When it ends, he's torn between disappointment —because it has _ended_— and the dazed feeling of breathlessness. Because—_wow. _

Like. How is that even possible. _How_. He's—he doesn't even have _words_ for how he's feeling about the show.

In almost autopilot, he leads Makomo back to the car.

"Did you like it?" He asks, because the whole point of going was _Makomo_, no matter how he feels about the main dancer.

His sister nods, happiness obvious in her features, and though he feels the disappointment of not watching whoever that dancer was longer, there's satisfaction in knowing she's enjoyed the ballet.

"I don't need to ask you to know you did as well, though," she teases.

Sabito groans, half-embarrassed of being seen like that by his sister. "How does someone like him _exist,_" he says, before continuing. "What was even he, blessed by the gods themselves? How can someone be so _beautiful_—"

Makomo laughs and doesn't stop until they're near the McDonalds they ate in before. "Oh, stop, I want more fries."

He rolls his eyes, because _of course she does_, and parks the car about five minutes away from the fast-food establishment. "You better thank me for this."

He accompanies her—because _hello, _she's fourteen, it's past midnight, and there are creeps everywhere. Soon enough, his sister has fries in her hands and they're heading back.

They're about five meters from the car when it happens.

(And that is when Sabito dies, he's sure of it.)

"Excuse me?"

Sabito and Makomo both look towards the voice, and—

And Sabito's brain _dies_.

Because there—

He's the dancer.

The _dancer_. Of the ballet show they've just watched.

_That_ dancer.

"Uh— hi?" Sabito manages to say, completely flustered.

The beautiful, gorgeous man seems a bit uncomfortable but holds himself straight, staring directly at Makomo's fries. "Would you direct me towards the McDonald's, please?"

Sabito nods, but the words don't seem to get out of his mouth. Makomo notices and takes charge, because she's _like that_.

"Yes, of course! But, aren't you the main dancer of _A Field of Hydrangeas_?" Taken aback, he nods, and Makomo's eyes _sparkle_ once more. "We just came from it! Oh, it was amazing!"

The man nods in acknowledgement, and he softens his stance, though not noticeable to the untrained eye—Sabito just happens to be studying him right now. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," he says. He shifts his gaze towards him, and Sabito knows he has to say _something_.

"It was— uh—" he starts, before coughing in an attempt to collect himself. "It was breath-taking."

Clearly, that attempt at collecting himself didn't _happen_, because he just _blurted_ that in the face of the most gorgeous man he's ever seen and _wow, okay, the ground can swallow him now_.

The man blushes under the admiration, and Makomo watches between the two in suspicion.

(_Could it be?_)

"Thanks," he says awkwardly, his gaze diverted from Sabito's. After a moment of silence, with his cheeks still red, he clears his throat. "The, uh, McDonald's?"

Sabito would like it very much if some outer force could abduce him right _now_, please and thank you.

"A-Ah, yes. It's, about 300 hundred meters away? That's what _Google Maps_ said, anyway. You just gotta continue straight until the second crosswalk and turn to the right, and there's a tea house close to the street you've got to take, which is by turning to the left, and then—"

Makomo elbows him before he can continue, which she should've done before, but sometimes she forgets how _bad_ her brother is at instructing anything not involving kendo.

The man's wearing a dumbfounded expression she can sympathise with, and she takes the reins once more.

"You don't have _Maps_ on your phone?" She asks, her voice gentle.

The dancer's cheeks, which were devoid of flush seconds ago, turn red again. "My phone's dead."

_Oh my god, he's adorable, _Sabito thinks. And truly, it's _unfair. _Both looks _and_ an adorable personality? _How_.

(Sabito's death is going to be because of this man and he will die a very, very happy man.)

"It's okay," she says. "We can accompany you if it's no bother?"

Sabito would be gaping at her if he wasn't so mesmerized by how beautiful the man looks under the lights of the night.

The man looks at him discreetly, and the only reason Sabito catches the fleeting stare is that he can't do anything but _stare_ at this gorgeous man who has stolen his breath and is mere steps away from stealing his heart as well.

He nods. "That's—" he clears his throat. "Thank you."

Makomo waves the gratefulness away and starts walking.

"I'm Urokodaki Makomo, by the way," she introduces herself, before pointing him out. "This is my brother Sabito."

(Because obviously Sabito can't introduce himself—he's way too busy appreciating a _moonlit ocean_ in human form.)

The man nods again. "Tomioka Giyuu."

And _wow, _okay, now Sabito knows his name. He knows his name, and it's _Tomioka Giyuu, _and he's going to remember that name for the rest of his eternity.

(Which is going to be really short if he keeps this up, because Sabito's only mortal and this man, _Tomioka_, is clearly _not_.)

"So, how did you get into ballet?"

From there, Makomo pulls question after question, and by halfway Sabito starts asking as well. He stutters and makes a fool out of himself, and he can _feel_ Makomo's amused stare as he does so. But Tomioka responds in kind, flushed cheeks and nervous fingering, and Sabito's nervousness settles into wonder because not only is he beautiful, gorgeous, _and _adorable—he's also _interesting_.

When they arrive at the McDonald's, Sabito's _crushed_.

(Okay, maybe just disappointed—he wants more time with this out-of-this-world man, it's completely understandable.)

"Are you and your company going to be here for long, Tomioka-san?" Makomo asks, more out of sympathy for her brother than curiosity.

Tomioka shakes his head. "We're established here." He looks briefly towards Sabito as he says this, and _oh, boy_, she's fairly certain on what's about to happen. "I, uh. I live here."

_And you didn't know about the McDonald's?_, Makomo wants to ask, but she won't. She won't even raise a suspicious eyebrow, because she's _determined_ to get her brother a _date_, and the probabilities seem to improve every second that passes.

(Honestly, Makomo _should_ be suspicious. Fortunately for her, Giyuu's just a shut-in who's lost a bet with _Shinobu_ of all people and now has to buy a McDonald's meal for her.)

"Oh, we, we live a few towns over," Sabito stammers. "Would you—would you like to hang out sometime?"

Sabito's as red as a tomato and with his already ginger hair, he doesn't think it's a very flattering look. But Tomioka nods anyway, and the whole interaction ends up with him having Sabito's number.

(Sabito's going to _die_, and it'll be the sweetest death ever_._)

Makomo's smiling like the cat that ate the canary, and Sabito can't help but feel like he's in _danger_.

"S-See you, then!"

As Tomioka enters the establishment, Sabito hooks his arm with his sister's and _runs. _After a hasty retreat, Sabito looks at her—and she _smirks_ at him, and that's when he knows she's going to be lording this over him for a long, long time.

"I think _you're_ the one who has to thank me for wanting more fries."

Sabito makes a sound between _why-would-you-ever-say-that _and _oh-god-please-no _—that sounds more like a dying whale than anything— and pleads to the gods to take him _now, _before his state as a living being allows his sister to terrorize him even more.

(Deep, deep down, though, he's grateful.)

(Did she really get him a date —hang out, whatever— with the most gorgeous man he's ever seen?)

(By the look on her face, he's going to go with _yes_.)

(Just— _wow_.)

(He's already dead, isn't he?)


	5. fantasy

**HYDRANGEAS**

* * *

© 2020; panravenc.

* * *

**_Chapter V_**

_Fantasy_

* * *

Believe it or not, Sabito's actually not _that_ reckless.

Usually, that is.

What he's doing now—well. It _could_ be labelled as reckless. Probably.

(Makomo thinks he has lost his mind. Seriously, she has screamed these past days more than she has in _years_.)

(That's his sister for you, though. Always a sweetheart.)

"Look, I'm going—there's no discussion about it," he'd said.

Makomo had made a frustrated sound. "He's dying, accept it already!" She'd spat.

And no. No, because his _father_ couldn't be dying. He was just sick. He only needed a cure.

"And he wouldn't be if it wasn't for me! So if I have to enter the forest—" which they'd been told to never, _ever_, do. "—in search for that damned flower the witch wants, then I sure as hell will do it!"

And that had been that.

So now he's in the forest.

In the _cursed_ forest.

In search of a flower—which may or may not exist—that the town's healer, lovingly denominated witch by the oldest sibling of the Urokodaki's, needs for the remedy that will heal his father.

(Because Sabito had been down with a cold for a couple of days and so his father had gone in his stead to the neighbouring village to sell their craft.)

(When he'd returned ill from the trip, Sabito had known it had been his fault.)

Sabito is sixteen summers old. _Sixteen_. He's a grown-up. He's a _man_. The forest doesn't scare him one bit.

No. Nuh-uh.

Not at all.

(Okay, maybe it does.)

The flowers that the witch wants grow near a river, he's been told, in a clearing past a waterfall.

Which doesn't make sense at all? It isn't like there's a _map_ of the freaking forest or someone to ask around for a river.

But he's determined. He _will_ find the flowers.

_Somehow_.

Passing a hand through his hair, he sighs. He's been in the forest for _hours. _"This is going nowhere," he mutters to himself.

He's seen a couple of animals, but otherwise, he doesn't understand why the forest's been labelled as cursed.

It isn't like there's a dragon here or something.

(Ha, ha. Impossible. That's impossible. Right? Right.)

Three hours later is when the murmur of a river reaches his ears. It's getting late, the sun already on his descend, and Sabito hopes to the seven gods above that he finds the flowers before the night settles in.

And that he can find his way back home. Because honestly, he's been marking the trees the best he can, but the likelihood of seeing a difference in the tree bark when the moon is up in the sky is lower than he'd like.

Advancing through the forest, he follows the sound of the river as well as he can. Finally, though, he reaches it.

It's beautiful—but Sabito doesn't have time for that. Staring in the direction the water comes from, he breaks into a sprint. For all that he's tired, the prospect of finding the flowers of doom—he's named them, yes—gets energy running through his body like nothing else before.

_Please, please, please, let the waterfall be close._

He's still running—only having stopped to hunt some fish and eat some of the berries he's brought from the village—when the sunlight stops filtering through the trees and the dark of the night becomes apparent.

He's wounded. He has scratches all over his body, and he's _tired_, and he's on some impossible mission on a last hope to cure his father because if he and his siblings have to lose Sakonji he wants it to be when he's old and grey and not because he couldn't get out of bed for two miserable days.

So he keeps running.

It feels like an eternity when he finally sees the waterfall.

According to Shinobu—the witch in question—there should be a clearing right after it.

With trepidation—because Sabito's not reckless, not _that_ much—he puts his feet on the cold water and starts walking towards it. By the time he's a few meters besides the waterfall, he's swimming. He's wet. He's _drenched_.

But at least he's there.

As expected—yes, really—there's a path that leads to somewhere behind the cascade.

Sabito breathes in and out.

_This is it_.

(Or so he hopes.)

(He really, _really_ hopes.)

The path isn't long. It's dark, though, and it _may_ be a bit scary.

Just a bit.

Really.

When he sees light at the end, he _runs_.

"_Holy_—"

There's a clearing, bathed by _moonlight, _with dozens upon dozens of those goddamned flowers and a stream surrounding it.

It's fucking _beautiful_.

A chilly breeze makes its way towards him and he shivers—his clothes are still dripping, and he has to admit, the temperature's not ideal for the impromptu bath he's taken.

He grins, unrestrained, once he steps out of his stupor.

_Dad's gonna live._

He wastes no time and begins to collect a few of them—the witch only said she needed _a few_, so Sabito guesses that eight or so will be enough.

"What are you doing?"

He screams.

(Sabito, later, will forever deny it.)

He turns around, only to see the most gorgeous being he's ever seen.

Pale skin, snow-like, with his hair waving around with the help of a breeze Sabito doesn't feel, stands a man just a few meters away from him.

And—_wow_.

Sabito's never been one for men, he'll admit—women are just prettier—but there's no denying the beauty in front of him.

"I—what?"

The man makes an annoyed expression. "What are you doing?"

"Uh—" and, look, if Sabito's brain is still not functioning, just blame the holy being that has appeared out of nowhere. "—collecting flowers?"

The beauty's brows furrow. "No."

"Yes?"

"_No_."

At his forceful tone, Sabito returns to reality. No matter how gorgeous the man may be, he's on a _mission_. "Look, I don't know who you are, but I _need_ these, okay?"

"They're _mine,_" the man nearly snarls. Water from the stream starts to rise, and it's only now that Sabito sees that the man is _standing on the water_.

Wow.

Um.

Okay.

So, maybe not a dragon. But still _something_.

Cool.

(Sabito's totally _not cool_ with this new development.)

(Fucking _witch_.)

"I—" he attempts. "Father's sick. And, and the witch said this was the medicine, okay? I don't, didn't know they were yours, but I _need _them, and I will pay you, if that's what you want—"

Okay, so maybe Sabito has panicked a little bit.

The angry expression on the man's face disappears. Not that the ginger notices it, what with his ramblings.

"What will you give me?" The man interrupts.

Sabito blinks at him owlishly. "Give you?" He repeats, dumbfounded.

"If I give you these flowers," he specifies. "What will you give me?"

And look, here's the thing: this man is obviously some kind of spirit. You _never_ make deals with spirits.

Sabito knows this rule.

He also knows this is the only chance he has of saving his father.

So.

"What do you want?" He asks.

The man's—can Sabito call him that?—features shift to something more open and curious. "Are you willing?" _To make a deal with me?_

Cautious, Sabito looks at him. "If you let me return with the flowers in tow for my father to live," he responds, a condition to whatever deal he's agreeing to.

A few seconds pass before the man talks again.

"Give me your name," _your soul, _he doesn't say. "And the promise of your presence before the night of the next quarter of this lunar cycle."

Sabito knows what it will mean if he gives this man, this _spirit, _his name.

_Everyone _knows what happens when you willingly give a spirit your name.

(_You won't return, _some say. _You'll be bound, you'll be cursed, and you won't belong to God ever again_—)

"If I give you my name," _my soul, _gets heard anyways. "Will you give me yours?"

(_But if they give you one back, you might just survive. For it will mean a promise, and it will mean forever._)

The man seems to think about it, though his face remains impassible.

"I will."

"And if I give you the promise, will I be able to return to the village after this moon cycle?"

Giving your name means giving your soul.

Giving your promise means chains around your throat.

"Once per clear moon," is the answer he's given.

And, well, Sabito's not _that_ reckless, not really, but—

"Bless these flowers and you have a deal."

(_A spirit's blessing_, his mind whispers, _will save your father and your siblings_.)

(Because spirit blessings _last, _and if Makomo or his other siblings fall ill, they'll heal.)

The man's eyes light up and a tiny smile makes its way onto the stone-cold face he's been wearing the whole time. With a move of his arm, the flowers on Sabito's hands glow.

(Sabito has to will himself not to melt because even though it's completely inappropriate in this situation, this man is _beautiful, completely mesmerising, a work of art, magic itself_—)

"My name," he starts, the words coming out slow. "Is Sabito."

When the spirit smiles, Sabito doesn't know if he's sold his soul to an angel or to the devil itself, but he will gladly stay and find out if he can see it one more time.

"Giyuu," he responds. "My given name is Giyuu."

The deal is done.

Sabito grins despite himself. "Nice to meet you, Giyuu." The name rolls of his tongue and he tastes it, not wanting to let go of the sudden rush of adrenaline that has gone through his body.

"Go," the spirit says.

Sabito wastes no time and sprints towards the exit.

The voice of the spirit—Giyuu—follows him through the way back home. _And remember, you only have until next quarter._

Seven days is what he has before he has to honour the promise.

It's enough to say his goodbyes, enough to see if his father will survive, enough to leave instructions for Tanjiro to take care of Makomo and the rest of their siblings.

Looking at the moon, the village suddenly in his vision range, Sabito breathes in and out.

_Seven days. _

(Giyuu can't wait. A _companion_. For the first time in three hundred years, he breaks out in a grin.)

(When Shinobu visits the next day, she smiles in that irritating way, as if waiting for him to thank her.)

("He's delectable, isn't he?" She says, mouth full of teeth.)

(_Witch, _he thinks fondly. "He is.")


	6. adoption

**HYDRANGEAS**

* * *

© 2020; panravenc.

* * *

**_Chapter VI_**

_Adoption_

* * *

Giyuu has never been more terrified and more excited at the same time as he is now. Never mind when he taught his first class, when he almost got caught sneaking out to see a concert with Sabito in tow, or when he got out of the orphanage at the age eighteen.

He's twenty-seven now—not a number he thought he would reach when he was thirteen, certainly.

"Are you nervous?" Sabito asks by his side.

Nervous? He's _terrified_. He's excited, he wants to get over it, he wants it to never end. He takes Sabito's hand into his, not responding and yet giving him an answer all the same.

They're in front of the orphanage they spent their early years on, and childhood memories slip through Giyuu's mind without filter.

He sees the first time he met Sabito, back when he cried at everything, back when he didn't talk because of Tsutako's murder—back when he thought Sabito had to be the meanest boy around.

_"Why are you crying? You're a man, aren't you? Men don't cry!"_

Oh, how obsessed with that Sabito used to be. Then again, it had gotten him to do nearly everything Giyuu had wanted him to when they were in their teens, because if fourteen-year-old Sabito hadn't been able to resist something, that had been dares.

_"What, you aren't man enough to do it?"_

They had been roommates for about five years when Giyuu had dared Sabito to kiss him on the lips, with stolen alcohol from Sakonji-san flowing through their veins.

They had been idiots, at fourteen.

(They had been idiots at fifteen, too, when they kissed under the moonlight without the excuse of alcohol and freaked out because _oh god no he's my best friend, does this mean I'm gay, is it okay to be?_)

(They hadn't talked for three weeks, and avoided each other just as long.)

(Thankfully, they couldn't endure being without the other any longer.)

"Are you ready?" Sabito asks—for the hundredth time—in an attempt to hide his own feelings about the matter.

_"This_—_it doesn't have to change anything. We can still be friends, right?"_

_"Yeah. Just, friends who, um, who kiss sometimes?"_

_"If you_—_if you want to. Yeah. Yeah, we can be that. Definitely can be that."_

Giyuu takes a deep breath and nods.

"Let's go, then." Sabito takes the first step and soon enough they're entering through the orphanage's door.

Makomo looks at them, surprised and elated, and grins. "Boys!" She greets them. "Here for a visit?"

"No, no," Sabito smiles, nervous. "We've come here to bring two of them with us, actually."

Makomo—their little sister, another one of the kids who never got adopted, who knew about them before anyone else—brightens up. Working at the orphanage isn't what most people would dream of after spending all their life in it, but it's where Makomo belongs—what brings her joy.

"Come on, then!" She exclaims. "Sakonji-san is outside, watching the youngest play. Do you already know who you're adopting?"

Giyuu nods, squeezing Sabito's hand even tighter. "The Kamado siblings."

"Sakonji-san told us they've been here for a while—and the Kamado's were friends with Tsutako before she died, so we thought—" Sabito fumbled.

Makomo smiles, patient and gentle—even when they both know what kind of monster hides behind it, prank wars that will never leave their minds—and wishes them the best when they reach the playground.

"Sakonji-san!" Sabito exclaims, bowing, and Giyuu follows suit.

Looking at them, Urokodaki calls for the Kamado siblings, who are running around chasing a ball with a few other kids. "Tanjiro! Nezuko!"

Both children come quickly, eyes curious.

"These," he gestures towards them. "Are Urokodaki Sabito and Tomioka Giyuu—the ones I told you about."

Eyes wide with childish expectations, Nezuko stares at them in amazement while Tanjiro looks a bit more wary, and yet, holding his sister's hand in his, hope flares in his orbs.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Giyuu starts, his voice gentle in the way few times is. "Do you guys have questions?"

Tanjiro waits before he speaks, nervous energy running through him. "Is it true that you lived here, too?"

Sabito chuckles. "Yeah, yeah. Sakonji-san told us you've been using the fifteenth bedroom?" He asks, smirking when Tanjiro nods eagerly. "That was ours."

Tanjiro gasps, amazed. "That's where the carving in the wall comes from?"

Giyuu almost face-palms when he remembers the damned thing. Sabito had been a wreck during his last week in the orphanage, worried about leaving him alone, worried about _everything_. And so, Giyuu had carved behind the door their names like some kind of cheesy romantic gesture.

_"Are you crazy? Sakonji-san's going to kill us!"_

_"I love you, Sabito." _

_"That's so not fair_—_I love you, too, stupid."_

"Yeah, that was us," Sabito admits, sheepish, a pointed glance at Giyuu that says more than the thousand words he wants to spit out at his past idiocies.

Somehow, people always assume Giyuu's the sensible one. The reasonable one, the one who's _mellowed out_. Yeah, right. _Voice of reason, my ass._

Nezuko doesn't talk—they've been warned—but she nods and stares at them, excited, wanting to know more about the people who've sworn to give them the warmth of a family once again.

"Will we—" Tanjiro starts. "Will we see them again? Our friends and Sakonji-san and Makomo-san?"

Giyuu ruffles his hair. "You will. This was our home, too—we'll come back to visit, as many times as you want."

Beaming up at him, Tanjiro then looks at Urokodaki, expectant. With a sigh, the older man gives him a pat in the back. "Go get your bags. We'll see each other soon."

As the Kamado siblings run towards their bedroom, they end the paperwork needed for the adoption.

"It's all done. They're yours," Urokodaki speaks. "Treat them well, will you?"

Sabito grins up at the only father figure he's had in his life. "You know it."

"It wouldn't be _manly _otherwise," Giyuu says, teasing his partner.

Rolling his eyes, Sabito tries to ignore the blush rising in his cheeks. "I'm never going to live that down, will I?"

But Giyuu smiles at him, unrestrained, excited and happiness in his eyes, and Sabito falls in love with him all over again.

They're parents.

Holy shit—they're _parents_.

"We've done it," he says, reacting to the joy that's spread to his entire body in the span of a few seconds. Grabbing Giyuu by the waist, he spins him around, a smile on his face. "We're parents!"

Giyuu returns his embrace, overwhelmed by the fact that finally, after months of trying, they've succeeded and _adopted_. "Yeah," he chokes out. "We are."

It's not like Urokodaki and Makomo, and all the kids they've shared years with, aren't their family. Urokodaki's their father—has always been, in Sabito's case—and Makomo will never stop being their sister. And yet—yet, for two orphans who found each other in between screaming matches and kendo practices, it feels like their younger selves, who so desperately longed for affection, can be put at last to rest.

_A family. _

Kissing Sabito, unable not to, he smiles against his lips.

It's a new beginning—and nothing's tasted sweeter than the hug Nezuko pulls them into when the siblings come down, ready to try and be happy in a new home.


	7. welcome home

**HYDRANGEAS**

* * *

© 2020; panravenc.

* * *

**_Chapter VII_**

_Welcome Home_

* * *

It's Saturday afternoon, and Giyuu's come home. It's one more finished mission added to the list, and he breathes a bit easier because of it—a bit more every demon he slaughters, a bit more every demon that dies. Still, he's tired.

He just wants to lay by Sabito's side, now.

It's a surprise—because they don't see each other much at home, always away in their missions and assignments—when Giyuu opens the door and finds Sabito's shoes on the front. But he's happy about it. So, _so_ happy about it.

"Sabito?" He asks. "I'm home."

He savors those words, unused on his tongue, and a twitch of lips brings itself onto his mouth. If Sabito's home—if only for one afternoon—then maybe they can rest, each other's presence keeping their instincts at bay.

"Wha—Giyuu?" He hears his voice. "Welcome back!" He shouts, not even a second later.

He's smiling, when he comes to Giyuu's vision field. _God, _he's _smiling. _Bright, and so unapologetically _Sabito, _a grin so delighted it makes Giyuu's heart swell and beat fast, faster, and he can hear it at the edge of his mind, each heartbeat linked to his partner.

It's the same smile he flashed at him at thirteen, when they both passed the exam, bleeding—and him, with shame, because he'd been unconscious the entire time except for the last few hours—and exhausted, boyish and free; it has always left him breathless, and it probably always will.

It's the same grin he wore when they got out of the reunion with Oyakata-sama as Twin Water Pillars, because Sabito wouldn't accept anything else. It has a tint of triumph, and elation, and it makes him so incredibly handsome Giyuu sometimes can't believe Sabito wants him back, _loves_ him back.

The intensity of Sabito's grip on his torso welcomes him back to reality—and, if Giyuu's to be honest, he could get himself lost in those arms. The warmth of Sabito's body is clinging to his colder temperature, all thanks to the snowfall that's happening outside, and he shivers in pleasure, sighing when, even after a long moment, neither of them lets go.

It feels like _home_.

(Sabito's always been his.)

The weight of his _Nichirin_ is heavy on his waist, and it digs into his hips—and surely into Sabito's, too—but he doesn't let go. Not yet, not when he's surrounded by the scent of his lover and best friend, of his partner.

(_Lover _sounds too casual, he thinks, and _best friend_ cuts short for what they are. Sabito is his everything, and the reason he can cry—Sabito is his home and his path, his beginning and his end.)

(He will never be anything less.)

"Aren't you back early?" Sabito murmurs, still not giving up the embrace.

Giyuu nods on his shoulder—the bastard is taller than him, has always been except for that short period at fifteen where he grew up faster and got his well-deserved revenge—and revels in the softness of Sabito's clothes that clash with the roughness of his skin, years of training having left their mark.

(The first time he noticed that, he _blushed_.)

(Who knew silky, smooth skin wasn't what he was into? Not him until he touched Sabito's, that's for sure.)

"I'm glad," his partner in all—even in crime—finally says, after a few moments of silence. It's more of a whisper, really, and it tickles his ear and makes him red, which makes Sabito chuckle when he notices it—because, _of course, _he notices it.

Giyuu stays silent, but somehow manages to tighten up his grip, and Sabito's chuckles turn into coughs real quick.

They let go after that, lingering where they can.

Giyuu's stomach roars, and then Sabito's laughing again.

Teasingly, he smirks. "Hungry?" After a smile send his way, he says: "Don't worry, I was just making dinner."

They're not married. Not yet, at least.

And even knowing that, as he walks behind him, Giyuu can't help but think that maybe a ceremony to speak their vows to each other isn't really necessary. Not when he already knows what feelings hide beneath Sabito's actions, not when Sabito already knows all the words he doesn't say out loud.

Maybe one day he'll call Sabito his husband.

Or maybe they'll die before that.

(Being Demon Slayers, nobody knows for sure when the last night will be, after all.)

It doesn't matter to him, though, not really.

Sabito's already his home.

(Everything else is just pleasantries.)

(Still, he says _yes, _three months later, because Sabito's asked and he can never say no to him—not that he would even _try_, not when it comes to them, and not when it comes to _him_.)

(Seeing Sabito _smiling_, both of them in their formal clothes, as the Oyakata binds them together for the rest of their lives, is still one of the happiest memories he has. Not because of the wedding—they were _bound _way before that, believe him—but because Sabito looks like he's just gifted him the universe, and his heart beats at the sight: fast, faster; because even after all these years all he can do when Sabito smiles is stare mesmerized, breathless, completely _enamored_—)

(—because, well, who wouldn't be when Sabito is smiling at _them?_)


End file.
